Saturday, December 20, 2008

playing dead

Why does the fantasy of disappearing completely so appeal to me? I'm writing a short story - fiction for once - and the protag is a redhead, but she's really a thickly veiled version of me, and my favorite part of the whole she-bang is that she's erased her own identity. I don't like futuristic shit; I don't watch that show alias. The only TV I watch, really, is bad reality shows and Dr. Gregory House, who I'm going to marry in fiction-ville. I just really like the idea of not being myself, which I'm sure is some form of psychosis.

I have to figure out a new occupation that will allow me to wear wigs and disguises. I'd like to wear a wig on a daily basis, but a comfortable one. Options:

StripperBritney SpearsUndercover Detective

I don't have the balls or the dancing chops to be a stripper, I am not quite as crazy as Britney Spears, and I'm pretty sure you have to be a uniform cop before you can be an Undercover Detective.

I like this guy:

The diablo, not the douche who's skin he calls home. I meester blue devil. Sad and evil, a little sweet cartoon of rotten trashiness.